


spiritual revolt from the waist down

by smallredboy



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (somewhat), Angst, Canon Compliant, Flashbacks, Homophobic Language, Loss of Faith, M/M, homophobic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 18:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19046374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Aziraphale is reminded of a few incidents when Gabriel and the others go to him about Crowley.





	spiritual revolt from the waist down

**Author's Note:**

> well i finished the mini series like uh.. less than an hour ago and i couldn't stop thinking about how the angels' behavior about aziraphale and crowley is just like... Homophobia Metaphoresque so i typed this out.
> 
> enjoy >:3

Gabriel snarls. “You and your boyfriend with fiery red hair, you _consorting_ with the enemy—”

Aziraphale’s stomach sinks as Uriel, Michael and Sandalphon watch on, squinting, disgusted, and he’s a little nauseous.

“I haven’t been consorting—”

He hits him right in the stomach, and his knees wobble and he sinks right into the ground. He coughs a little, pain searing through him and oh, it’s almost funny how the good guys are just like the men and women he’s encountered throughout all these years. In these six thousand years, he has been loudly gay for perhaps half of them, and with Crowley together for a very small portion of it. But with enough bad timing to get together at the worst possible time and place, always, always.

Gabriel is just like them all; his words laced with disgust as he talks about Crowley, it’s just like back then. Back then, oh, he’s gotten beaten up so many times. He’s gotten called a faggot, a pansy, a sissy too many times. He’s learned to shrug it off, but Crowley hasn’t— if he was there to hear their words he’d go ballistic, he’d raise Hell on his own.

His head spins as he lays there.

“You have been consorting with the enemy,” Uriel snaps, voice thick with venom on their tongue. “You’ve always been deceiving us, claiming to have been keeping your eye on him, making sure he doesn’t notice—”

Gabriel kicks him, a bitter laugh escaping his mouth. “But no, I bet you were doing all sorts of things with him, weren’t you? With your demon boyfriend—”  
  
“Stop it,” he hisses.

_“Fucking sissies, ruining our fuckin’ country, man,” one of the men sneered from behind them. Crowley turned and his head shifted into the one of a being too much for the human brain to capture, to deal with— he promptly passed out right there and then._

_“My dear!” Aziraphale exclaimed, “You can’t just—”_  
  
_“Oh I can,” he said, pecking him on the lips. “I sure can, angel. C’mon, let’s get to my car.”_

“I’m sure you’ve gathered quite a lot of information,” Michael tells him. “Nothing useful, obviously. Just—”  
  
“You’re rotten,” Uriel says. “You should fall for this alone.”  
  
“The Almighty wouldn’t—”  
  
“Oh the Almighty would,” Michael tells him, grabbing him by his hair, making him yelp out. “The Almighty would. We’re telling her.”  
  
“Well, then I’m telling her you all are kicking me—”  
  
“She won’t care, Aziraphale,” Gabriel tells him. “You are a traitor to your kind. You deserve to fall— right along with that demon you’ve shared a bed with.”

_“What happened, angel?” Crowley asked, terrified, holding him tight as soon as he came home._

_He shook his head. “Nothing, nothing happened. Just— just two guys… they were… just…”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Oh,” he said, cradling him gently as he started to take care of his injuries. “I’m right here, angel. I’m not going anywhere.”_

_“I know,” he breathed out. “I know.” Tears streamed down his face, his head swimming as Crowley kept him there, still in his arms, still miracle-ing every wound away, shushing him as he cried. There was no place safer in the world than Crowley’s arms— no place safer on Earth, or in Eden, or anywhere in the universe. It was right there in Crowley’s lanky arms, long and thin but so careful, that it was all some semblance of okay._

They pull away, and they disappear, and Aziraphale has their words echo in his head mercilessly. Traitor, rotten.

Maybe Crowley’s always had a point about it, about Heaven and Hell not being quite so far apart. But the Apocalypse is afoot, and he still hasn’t come in contact with the boy, and there is no use in wondering that now. The war is soon, and he has to speak to the Almighty.

He has to stop it, before he has to fight for this group— this group that doesn’t understand that love can define and defeat barriers. Before they pull him away from the one he truly loves.


End file.
